


Tear Me Up (Sammy, I'm Sorry)

by soullessbrothers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s09e05 Dog Dean Afternoon, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Guilty Dean Winchester, Love Triangles, M/M, No Lube, Possessed Sam, Seduction, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:50:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessbrothers/pseuds/soullessbrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is confused that Dean won’t touch him, and Dean asks Ezekiel for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tear Me Up (Sammy, I'm Sorry)

Glass bumps the back of Dean’s knuckle and he finds Sam’s concerned smile at the end of it. He wraps his hand around the middle and takes a swig, nodding his thanks. Sam sits beside him with his own. He clinks their bottles and the next time they drink, they mirror each other. The silence is heavy. Dean avoids him, keeps his eye on the coffee table in front of the Men of Letter’s, their, sofa and takes another swallow every few breaths. It isn’t long before his is finished and Sam’s is half-empty.

“Uh, I know you’re not a dog now, but don’t you think you should be taking it easy?”

Dean grunts.

“We don’t know if your stomach’s back to normal. I mean, you didn’t want chocolate.”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? You don’t look fine.”

“Pretty sure I know if I’m okay here, Dr Phil.”

Sam snorts and puts his unfinished bottle beside Dean’s empty. They sit for a moment and Dean clears his throat. When he makes to stand, Sam puts a light hand on his upper arm.

“Dean, we, uh, we gonna talk about this?”

“Jesus, Dr Phil to Maury Povich. What, Sammy?”

“That, the dog.”

“Dog?” Dean frowns. “The Colonel? Man, I feel bad about the whole vegan freaks too, but there’s no way we can keep a dog down here.”

“No, not Colonel.”

“The freakshow that wanted you molesting him? Fuck, man, that was funny.”

“No, Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You gonna enlighten me, or are we gonna play twenty questions?”

“The, uh, the poodle.”

“The poodle?”

There’s a shift to Dean’s posture. The muscles in his back and shoulders bunch until he’s left perched at the edge of his seat, ready to leave the room. Sam lifts his eyebrows and leans back. If Dean bolts, Sam’s not going to stop him. They already know this dance.

“Fuck you talking about.”

“You were making the eyes, Dean.”

“Making the eyes. What the hell are you, sixteen? Screw you, making the eyes.”

Sam half-purses his lips. He rests his elbow on the armrest and lets his palm hold up his head. Dean glances at him and Sam fixes him with a cool stare. He ignores Dean’s discomfort and gestures with his free hand, daring him to prove his point. Dean pauses for a moment, then he hesitates, shrugging his shoulders like Sam’s the one making a deal out of nothing.

“Uh, sure, Dean. You looked at that dog like it was wearing a skirt.”

“Dude, it was a dog. I’m not gonna tap a dog.”

Before Dean can push at the cushions underneath him and make his escape, Sam lets out a hurt sigh and shakes his head. The curl to his mouth could be a smile.

“Okay, man, I’ll bite,” Dean says. “You gonna be a bitch all day, or tell me what this is about?”

“Hey, no big deal. Whatever, man.”

“Sammy—”

“Seriously. Do whatever you want.”

“C’mon. I haven’t even done anything!”

“Not with me.”

It’s bitter and Dean frowns, confused. Sam’s looked away and Dean clenches his jaw. All that Dean wants is a shower and sleep. The change and fight was more tiring than he gave himself credit for, and Sam’s stung expression only adds to the knots that run under his skin.

“Sam—”

“I mean it, Dean. You’d want to touch a dog, but not me. Whatever.”

“What?”

“Ever since we saw Metatron, there’s, there’s nothing, man. I try and touch you and it’s like, you flinch and walk away or make excuses and you make me feel like I’m a freak.”

Dean winces. It’s true. The end of the Trials had been hard on Sam, and Dean wasn’t going to take advantage of him. He backed off, stopped the ass-smacks and tongue-fucks around diner straws. They were brothers again, and Dean thought that they had both at least been content in embraces. His chest tightens at the tears caught in Sam’s eyes.

He was going to speak, but Sam croaks, “You don’t want me.”

“Jesus, Sammy, it’s not, you, hell, it’s complicated.”

“Yeah.”

“When you’re better, hey, steak and blowjob month, whatever you want, but dude, it’s so soon after the trials—”

“I’m fine,” Sam counters. “You keep saying that, but it’s just an excuse. I told you. I feel great. Better than I ever have, and you just—”

“Sammy, it’s really not—”

“What did I do wrong?”

The moment that the first tears trail down Sam’s face, Dean stands up. The familiar burn of guilt at his stomach churns iced fire and he turns away so he doesn’t have to see it. That makes Sam choke. Dean tightens his eyes shut and his fists ball. If things were different, he could clap a hand across Sam’s side and call him a jealous little bitch. Before they would know it, Dean would push Sam against the wall and he could kiss him, laugh it off between their teeth. He can’t.

“Zeke.”

“What are you—?”

“I fucking said Zeke.”

Dean looks back over his shoulder and catches the flash of blue to Sam’s eyes. Sam, Sam’s body, stands and Dean turns to face him.

“Fuck you, Zeke. You gotta, you gotta make him think about something else.”

“There is no assistance that I can give you, Dean.”

“You can mess with his memory, but not make him, I dunno, wanna cram some angel lore?”

Zeke’s voice is measured. “This is not a memory. Sam is in pain.”

“Then you fix it.”

“I cannot ease his insecurities. Sam sees your lack of advances as rejection. It is beyond me.”

A hand wipes down Dean’s face and he groans. There isn’t a way out. Zeke frowns, but Dean holds up the other hand to keep him silent. He only drops it to rub his temples, but Zeke takes the opportunity to lay his palms on Dean’s shoulders and offer one of Sam’s softest smiles.

“Get the fuck off me, Zeke.”

“Sam will not break. His love for you is deep and his desire strong.”

“Oh, great. So, what, I’m supposed to go to town knowing you’re in there?”

“I am not your enemy, Dean.”

“Sure. I’m not gonna do whatever with you staring down at me.”

Zeke uses Sam’s hands to cup Dean’s face. Dean opens his mouth to snap, but the air is cut by a kiss. Zeke takes his time, he presses Sam’s gentle mouth against Dean’s freeze. Dean doesn’t move, but that doesn’t deter him. Zeke kisses both lips and kisses them again. He thumbs over the five o’clock across Dean’s jaw and when he breaks the kiss, he leaves half an inch between his and Dean’s now-half open mouth.

“My grace will keep Sam strong,” Zeke promises. “He can love you as he dreams. And I can thank you for your trust.”

“Jesus, Zeke—”

“I can shield myself from Sam’s consciousness for a time. You can be alone with him. When you call my name, I shall be here to protect you, Dean.”

Dean swallows. “Just, okay, damnit, fine.”

His breath is hitched and Zeke hears it. He lowers his mouth to Dean’s and this time, Zeke uses Sam’s tongue to explore. It takes a groan before Dean’s matches it. Their soft licks are slow. Zeke lowers the hands to palm down Dean’s back and he holds him. When fingers find the hem of Dean’s shirt, they stray upwards to follow the heat of Dean’s spine. They splay over Dean’s ribs and Dean moans, he lets Zeke guide him to the nearest wall.

The bump is soft. All that Dean can feel is a mix of warmth from Zeke’s, Sam’s, arms and the brick against his shoulderblades. He opens his mouth further and the kisses stretch into one long breath of desire. When they part, Dean groans, but it’s only to let Zeke lift the shirt and undershirt from his chest. Zeke lets them pile to the floor and his hands smooth down Dean’s front, fingers printing over Dean’s nipples. They peak under his touch and Zeke smiles again, so much like Sam. Dean’s pants are harder.

“I love you as your brother,” Zeke murmurs. “You are a good man. A man I am privileged to know.”

“Shut, shut the fuck up, Zeke. Sam—”

“You can pleasure Sam, like this. He would care to make love to you, Dean. As would I.”

That draws another groan from deep in Dean’s throat. Zeke kisses from his cheek to the side of his neck as he unbuttons Sam’s shirt. He pushes it off his shoulders when he finds the muscular curve, and he breaks a bite to remove the fabric. They’re close now, Zeke’s touch travels to take the slow path of unhooking Dean’s belt, the metal button, the swell of zip. Their breaths ghost over each other’s mouths and when Zeke pushes his hand down the trail of hair on Dean’s stomach, brushes fingertips at the base of Dean’s cock, holds it to pull the hidden erection into open air, Dean almost whimpers.

“I could please you with a hand, but Sam would like to be buried within you, Dean.”

“I, fuck—”

“I agree.”

Zeke lets go and Dean’s cock twitches in need as his jeans and boxers are pushed to the floor. The mouth once on his neck lowers, nips collarbone. It continues south and Zeke makes Sam bend to lick down the centre of Dean’s ribs. From that position, Zeke strokes down the outside of Dean’s thighs and lifts one leg, then the other, to free him from circles of fabric at his ankles.

The tongue laps up again and Dean hisses, curses feral. Zeke understands and steps out of his own, Sam’s, clothes so they stand together, naked. He presses Sam’s knee between Dean’s legs and Dean complies, parts them. Zeke steps closer and the heads of their dicks roll together, pooling the wet of precome between them. Dean tries to push up, stand on the front pads of his feet, but Zeke bends instead. He rocks his hips and draws a damp line from the tip of Dean’s cock halfway down to the base, then back again. He pushes that hard that Dean grunts, balls rough up against each other. Zeke noses across to Dean’s ear and kisses the lobe as he holds position.

“I can see your guilt, Dean.”

“Shit—”

“Your betrayal is love.”

“Zeke, shit—”

“You are love.”

“Fuck—”

“I can give you what you need. I can hurt you. For your own need, I will make it burn. Sam will be unharmed. I can tear and heal.”

“You don’t, fuck, man, you can’t—”

“You need pain that I can give you. I can save you.”

Zeke kisses his earlobe again and over the top of his ear. Dean bends his head towards it. Zeke takes it into his mouth and bites, bites harder than Sam would, hard enough to make Dean cry out. It’s a promise and Dean accepts, he lifts a leg and presses the knee against Zeke’s, Sam’s, Zeke’s hip. Zeke lowers hands to Dean’s sides and lifts him. Dean forgot how strong angels could be, but Zeke’s strength through Sam is a surprise. He inhales sharply and wraps his legs tightly around Zeke’s middle, thighs tense to hold on.

There’s a nod and Zeke grabs Dean’s ass, fingers firm on his cheeks. He angles Dean from there and pulls them apart, rough enough to sting. Dean winces and Zeke nods again, another reminder. He moves so Sam’s cock slides between them. Dean is pinned in place between Sam’s, Zeke’s chest and the wall. He chokes when Zeke rocks his hips again, spreads more precome in a thick line over Dean’s hole and further up, further down.

Dean screams. Zeke shoves the head of Sam’s cock past Dean’s unprepared hole and the burn overtakes Dean. Tears spring to Dean’s eyes and they fall before he even knows that they exist. Zeke holds, and Dean falls to instinct to clench around the inch, more than an inch. The fire bites harder. Zeke kisses him, softer than Sam could in the moment. His tongue strokes against Dean’s lower lip to soothe him and it makes Dean relax. His muscles loosen and he draws Zeke further into him. The burn increases and Dean chokes again, but he concentrates on that kiss. Zeke rolls his hips slowly. He gives a little more of his cock, Sam’s cock, at every thrust, but it’s shallow. He paints Dean with more precome and it gets easier. Sam has always been messy, and even with Zeke in charge, that hasn’t changed.

Dean lets his tears keep falling and he breaks the kiss. From that angle, he can drop his head to Sam’s, not Sam’s, shoulder. Zeke rests his chin near Dean’s temple and he thrusts harder into him. He moves deeper. He fucks faster. The room fills with the sweat-slicked slap of skin over, over, and Dean can’t think, can’t see anything through screwed up eyes, and he doesn’t know when he closed them. He braces himself and grunts every time that Zeke slams up to the hilt and hits his prostate. Between them, Dean’s cock is trapped at Sam’s stomach and wets more of them. The hint of friction thrums to Dean’s gut and it aches almost as much as the rough cock threatening to tear him open.

There’s another cry as Dean comes. When white strikes up between their chests, Zeke smiles. He uses Sam’s nose to push Dean’s head back up and presses their lips together. There’s a harsh knock of teeth through skin as Zeke pounds, relentless, every crash against Dean’s sweet spot making Dean’s cries higher. He fucks with a few more thrusts before the blue in his eyes flash gone, and Dean snaps his own eyes open when he hears Sam’s, his Sam’s gasp at his own orgasm. The legs holding Dean up wobble and Dean has just enough sense to push his palms against the wall for more balance.

“Dean!”

Sam has to pull out, there’s no choice, with a wet pop. Dean lets out an inhuman noise when he feels Sam leak from him. Lines of come run from his hole and follow the contours of his skin. He has to drop his legs, but they don’t feel like his own. He leans more heavily into the wall and Sam follows. Their foreheads butt together and Sam’s breath is ragged.

“Dean,” he tries, but he has to shake his head.

The guilt presses up to Dean’s chest, but it’s silenced for a moment in Sam’s kiss, the familiar kiss. He only stops, confused, when Sam lets out a soft laugh.

“Dean, I told you, man. I’m not broken.”

“Sure not, Sammy.”

It doesn’t help. There’s a bubble under Dean’s skin and when he looks into Sam’s eyes, he swallows. He can see Ezekiel through them. When Sam nuzzles his jaw and relaxes, laughing something else about a shower and bed, what Dean wanted in the first place, Dean forces a grin and can’t meet his gaze. He wants to scrub every touch.


End file.
